


knights-errant

by casualbird



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff and Smut, Happy Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, No Spoilers, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Trans Caspar von Bergliez, Trans Male Character, caspar please keep better track of your dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/pseuds/casualbird
Summary: “If I’m a princess,” Ashe said, considering, trailing those callused fingers over all of Caspar’s battle scars--every little white swordspoint line, every spiralling dark magic mark, but most especially the two he got on his own steam, thick and pink under his taut-muscled pectorals, “does that make you my knight?”Intrepid adventurers Caspar and Ashe take a little stopover. In bed.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert
Comments: 22
Kudos: 84





	knights-errant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurnion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurnion/gifts).



Initially, Ashe wasn’t even certain Caspar would be able to make love to him that way, because, well. He’d gone and lost his cock. _Again._ And there was a brief but fervent fol-de-rol, the kind of frustration where one can do nothing but laugh, and they’d turned their innroom half inside-out, found the thing at the bottom of Caspar’s pack, the harness tangled in on itself, speckled all over with crumbs.

But, well. They’d laughed, and kissed a little, and then a little more, and then remembered that they still had to wash the thing, and then did that.

And then—well, it was coming on eleven by then, but if they took less than an hour, they could still count it morning sex. And, well, Caspar knew how much his Ashe loved morning sex, so he’d hoisted him up bridal, carried him back to their rented bed, wasted no time kissing the sweet sense out of him. His lips, first, always so soft and yielding, smiling against Caspar’s own, and then the slight angle of his jaw, his freckled neck, taking as much care as he could muster to keep from marking him above his usual collar.

Still, anywhere below was fair game, and Caspar had taken full advantage, sucking violet-red marks into Ashe’s thin skin from his Adam’s apple to below his clavicle, cheering, reveling inwardly at every sweet whine, high moan it coaxed from him.

And soon Caspar had come to the neckline of his nightshirt, wasting only a moment to nuzzle into the soft cotton before curling his fingers in the hem, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice when he asked “can I get this off you, baby?”

The tone of Ashe’s voice on his ‘yes, Caspar, please--’ was one of the great wonders of Caspar’s world, soft and fluttering and breathless, all for _him of all people._ He couldn’t keep a grin from plastering itself all over his face, couldn’t keep delighted laughter to himself as he wrestled Ashe’s shirt away, tossed it to the side, ran his hands down that lean freckled chest from collarbones to hips, curling his fingers ‘round the ridges of them.

“You’re the prettiest,” he told him, for the hundred thousandth time, still just as astonished as the first. “There’s not a--a princess in the world that’s as cute as you, Ashe, I swear--”

And Ashe just giggled, biting at his slick, swollen lips--if he’s not a princess, he’s an angel, Caspar would swear, or he’s both, a saint for all Caspar gahe a damn about the saints.

“If I’m a princess,” Ashe said, considering, trailing those callused fingers over all of Caspar’s battle scars--every little white swordspoint line, every spiralling dark magic mark, but most especially the two he got on his own steam, thick and pink under his taut-muscled pectorals, “does that make you my knight?”

And Caspar just had to--to steel himself, tear his hands away from Ashe’s body, because he just _had to_ get his pants off, and his socks, his underwear, like they’ll _burn_ if he kept them on any longer, because if there’s one thing he loves it’s being Ashe’s knight.

He could hear Ashe laughing at him fighting out of his clothes, leaving them all over, making such a mess--Ashe is so neat, but he’s not all strict about it, just--thinks it’s sweet when Caspar trips all over himself like that. And when Caspar looked up, once he’s kicked his breeches into some corner, Ashe was sitting on the bed jaybird-naked, smiling so fondly that Caspar felt he’d burst.

Caspar’s on him in an instant, pouncing, pressing his back into the tangled bedclothes, kissing him like he hasn’t eaten in days, like Ashe is a smorgasbord of sweet buns.

Ashe melted, a little, sweetly, wrapping his slender thigh around Caspar’s waist, straining up to press his cock into his hard-muscled abdomen, keening.

“My knight,” he murmured, when Caspar grinds his hips down in turn, “Caspar, love, you’re so good to me...”

And Caspar smirked, at the sweetness of his Ashe’s words, at the feel of his hot desperate breath against his skin. “That so, baby? Want me to be even better to you?”

Another soft laugh, barely more than an exhale. “Where’s the oil?”

The penny dropped--Caspar froze, realized that he’d no idea. Dove off of him, rummaged through his pack as if looking for the antidote to some horrendous poison, found it on the floor beside, where he’d left it searching for his cock. Grabbed that, too, pulled it on haphazard on his way back to the bed, getting the straps all twisted. Ashe had to help him, grinning as he put his deft hands to the task, making sure it’s snug but not too tight.

Caspar thanked him with a kiss, and then another, and then remembered what he was _doing,_ and thanked him instead by laying him out again, pressing one dripping slick finger inside, searching for that spot that makes him shiver and yelp. Found it, with a little prodding, and Ashe gasped, laughing out a little moan, tossing one forearm over his eyes.

“Good, baby?”

Ashe hummed by way of answer, reaching out his free hand to run over Caspar’s corded thigh, brushing the backs of his fingers over the inside plane of it, making Caspar stutter, his hands shake. Caspar got the message, gave him another finger, twisting them slowly inside, nudging them apart, and Ashe thrilled with it, whined “kiss me, kiss me.”

He did, and lost track of time like always, until he was three fingers deep and Ashe was writhing, sighing into his mouth, mumbling something that might have been “my knight, my knight, my knight.”

And then Ashe turned his head away, gulped a breath, and Caspar’s brow furrowed, the words “you okay, baby?” tumbling off his tongue when Ashe nodded, squeezing his hip, murmuring _please._

“Ashe,” Caspar said, syrupy, “oh, sweetheart, baby, you ready?”

He nodded again, and then remembered that he had to say it, that that’s their rule, so he did, curling up toward Caspar’s ear and mumbling “go on, please take me, I’m yours.”

Caspar kissed his cheek, having frankly no idea what to say to something so lovely as that, and eased his fingers out, rushing to slick himself up, to flip their position, situate Ashe on top of him the way he likes. It’s easier, Ashe has told him, to get as deep as he likes that way. Ashe scrambled to assist, angling their hips just right so Caspar could press in slowly, the scope of the world narrowing down to just the tightening of Ashe’s face, his little cry. It’s like nothing outside of him was real, not their untidy room, not the bustle of the little town outside, not the oil spilling forgotten over the mattress. Just Ashe, those chipped teeth digging into his lip, blunt fingernails scrabbling at Caspar’s shoulders.

And when there’s nothing more Caspar can give him, when he’s hilted himself inside, he just--ground against him, slow, hitting him deep the way he likes it, loves it, will _beg_ for it sometimes, and if that means that the leather straps keeping the thing in place presses just right against Caspar’s clit, well, that’s a nice bonus, he supposed.

But this is for Ashe, darling Ashe, shifting and sighing above him, holding his thighs, his calves vise-tight around Caspar’s hips, down his thighs.

“That right, Ashe, princess? Am I--this good? Am I getting that good spot for you?” Caspar was just--babbling, wondering distantly if he made any sense, but he had to _know,_ had to make sure that he was doing right by him.

And Ashe just--tightened his fingers around Caspar’s muscled shoulders, whimpered _yes, yes, you’re perfect, love you,_ and Caspar could barely take it, could barely take the sight of his face, silky hair all over, sweat-plastered to his furrowed brow, his sweet wide whining mouth. Could barely believe the flush that spread all down his body, all over his freckled chest, down to his belly. Couldn’t, truly could not handle the sight of his arching, aching cock, bobbing with each roll of Ashe’s hips, leaking onto Caspar’s skin.

Couldn’t rightly go on neglecting him like that, so--stroked his hands once more down the plane of Ashe’s back, rested them on his waist, brushing little circles with the tips of his thumbs. “Can I touch you, baby?” he asked, rasping, between shivering breaths.

Ashe nodded, made some twisted little noise that sounded enough like yes for Caspar to take it, sliding one hand over Ashe’s hipbone, through the channel of his Adonis line to curl around his cock, making him hiss, whimper before Caspar even started moving his hand.

“You’re so--” Ashe gasped, and then faltered, breath catching, thighs shaking. “So good to me--Caspar--oh--!”

And just like that he was coming, twitching and spilling all over Caspar’s fingers, dripping onto his belly as he slumped forward, head listing into the curve of Caspar’s shoulder, trembling all over like Caspar’d just pulled him from a snowdrift.

Caspar wrested his arm out from between their bodies, wrapped it around Ashe’s back, petting him, steadying him as he gasps for breath. The other came to rest in Ashe’s soft silvery hair, stroking, and if it still had a little oil on it, Ashe didn’t say anything. Just hummed, blissful, craned his neck to kiss, nip at Caspar’s ear, whispered something soft and sweet he doesn’t quite catch.

And they laid like that a while, Caspar’s hands gentling Ashe back down to Earth, feeling their heartbeats stabilize, fall into step.

“You know,” Caspar said, once he’s regained even an ounce of control over his mind, “there’s nothing that says we’ve gotta leave today. We could just... stay here, for a while.”

And Ashe... considered it, hemming and hawing as much as he could when he was so exhausted, so glowingly satisfied.

“How’s that?” he asked, with sweet feigned surprise. “My gallant knight doesn’t want to--forge ahead? Onward and up?”

Caspar just laughed, tousling his darling’s hair, turning to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I do,” he said, “but I can do enough of that in bed with my cute princess. ‘Sides, we made a bit of a mess. If we were gonna leave, we’d have to--get up, and clean.”

Ashe answered him with a kiss, a breathless little giggle. “You mean _you_ made a mess.”

A shrug. “For you.”

And they laughed, and bickered just a little, and--stayed, like that, in their little rented bed.

They could do onward and up _tomorrow._

**Author's Note:**

> okay! i had an absolute blast writing this, and i hope you had just as much fun reading it! let me know what you thought, and if you feel like it, why don't you come chill with me on [twitter!?!](https://twitter.com/bird_scribbles%22%22)
> 
> thanks, everybody!


End file.
